Symphony Of Unspoken Words
by rainpop
Summary: We used to be best friends, but we don't talk much anymore. At least, not in the way you think. NateMitchie. Can an old, slightly fading friendship turned to for comfort and certain other benefits become something more?
1. Prologue

_Summary: We used to be best friends, but we don't talk much anymore. At least, not in the way you think. NateMitchie. Can an old, slightly fading friendship turned to for comfort and certain other benefits become something more?  
_

_Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or Camp Rock._

_

* * *

_**Prologue:**

We used to be best friends, in the 'I'll share my mudpie with you' sort of way. But we don't talk much anymore, at least, not in the way you think.

Our conversations are silent; spoken tongue to tongue, lips, hands, flesh to flesh.

It's a secret language, created solely by us, to which I am an expert at decoding.

A brush of the hand up my waist, and he hits a bruise. I flinch. He kisses me harder, tongue sinking into my mouth: He's so sorry this is happening to me, he wants to make me forget, even if only for just a moment. He wants to swallow away my pain.

Fingers tangled in my hair, hand clinging to the back of my neck: He's had a particularly bad day today. He wants to tell me I'm the only thing that's got him holding on.

Soft butterfly kisses along my jaw, down my neck: He wants to cry. For the both of us.

And afterwards, it's the same every time. We don't talk, we don't cuddle. We get dressed, and stand silently for a while, just staring at each other from separate sides of the room. Then I crawl out of his window and into mine.

He goes to make sure his mom hasn't choked on her own vomit yet, and I crawl under my covers, waiting for my uncle to come home and decorate my skin with blotches of black and blue.

* * *

_AN: I know it's pretty short, but I just wanted to post up this small bit now to see what you guys think. So please review and tell me whether or not I should continue with this. Thanks :)_


	2. Chapter One

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or Camp Rock._

_Getting straight to the story...

* * *

_**Chapter One**:

_---  
_

I hadn't gone to school today.

All I could hear in my head was my drunken uncle's slurring words from the night before.

_"You'rre nuthin budda worthlezz lil' bitch, y'know that?"_

Until they had sunk in and finally become true.

Worthless.

Worthless.

I was worthless.

There wasn't any point in going to school.

Just then, whilst I was in the middle of my own personal pity party, I heard my phone vibrate on my bedside drawers. I pulled back my blankets just enough to reach my arm out and pull my phone back in with me. I checked the screen; it was from Nate.

'_Busy?_' it said. I chuckled a little. If you knew Nate you would know he wasn't exactly one for words.

But I just sighed, placing my phone back on top of my drawers. I didn't really feel like it tonight, and my arm felt too sore to move. Nate would understand. We had this thing where we never got upset if the other didn't text back; we both knew we had our own separate stuff going on.

But then I heard my uncles footstep's thumping up the stairs, his growling voice calling my name, and I cowered, slipping out of my bed and shimmying my window open. I knew it meant I would get it twice as bad later, but right now, all I could think of was hiding safely away in Nate's room. I crawled onto the branch that stuck out right near my window, and then along the wooden plank Nate's dad had nailed between the tree and Nate's window. I still remember the day when he had showed us. We were eight, and we had thought it was the coolest invention in history, even though it was nothing but a spare piece of timber and a few rusted nails. He had chuckled at us, stating that we were practically joined at the hip anyway, so he thought he'd may as well make it easier for us. Plus he wanted to save himself from opening the door every ten minutes, as we switched excitedly from his room to mine. Oh, and then there was the time when Nate had attempted to jump from his window to the tree to get to my window after having a bad dream, and had ended up falling fifteen feet to the ground.

I wondered vaguely if Nate's dad had ever thought about the use of this plank once adolescence came into it. Maybe he had planned on removing it once that time had come.

Nate's dad had died just before Nate had turned thirteen. That was a little over three years ago now.

But more on that later.

I slipped in through Nate's window (he had already left it open for me), seeing him sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. At the sound of my feet hitting the ground, he looked up, his face lighting up a little when he saw me.

He stood up and slowly made his way over to me, stopping only inches away. His eyes dropped to the brand new bruise on my collar bone, and his eyes seemed to cloud with sorrow.

"Are you okay?" he asked me, just like he does every time.

I nodded, looking down at my feet. I felt his finger under my chin, and he pulled my face up so I was looking at him directly in the eyes. And he was staring at me, really _staring_. And it was starting to freak me out. Not in the 'holy crap, why is this freak staring at me?' kind of way, but in the 'wow, this is really different' kind of way. So used to it, was I, the usual routine we went through each night.

"Are you sure?" he asked. That was new, too.

"Yeah," I nodded, giving him a half smile.

He kept staring for a moment longer, and then finally he mumbled, "Kay," and turned back to sit on the edge of his bed, resuming his former position.

I made my way over and sat down next to him. I was worried, he was acting so different. "Are _you_ okay?" I asked, breaking the routine myself.

I waited as he was silent, until he finally pulled his head out of his hands, looking me in the eyes. His were glistening a little. "No," he answered truthfully.

I wanted to ask him why. Though I think I could tell you what it was relating to, or who in this case, I didn't know the specifics. We never knew the specifics, though my bruises gave me away a little more than him.

Suddenly the door opened, and we looked up to find Mikey standing at the door in his flannel pyjama's.

Oh yeah, meet the only other reason Nate still lives with his druggo mom, and why he home schools at night so that he can work all day.

Mikey, Nate's six year old brother.

After Nate's dad had died, Nate had practically taken over the role as guardian. Wait, what am I saying? He had completely taken over the role as guardian in every single sense of the word; taking Mikey to and from school, helping him with homework, cooking for him, playing with him, you name it. And somehow he manages to make time for school and work as well.

Meanwhile, Nate's mom sits at home getting high, or spending most of the money Nate earns buying drugs.

I know it's not a good thing to say you hate somebody. But I do, I really do hate her with every fibre of my being. Nate was slowly killing himself, and she didn't care one bit.

Mikey's eyes lit up, and he shot over to me, hugging me excitedly. "Mitchie!"

I let out a small laugh, hugging him back. He was the cutest thing you ever saw, like a minnie little Nate. "Hi, Mikey," I smile.

But Nate pulled Mikey to him, a playfully serious look in his eyes. "And what are you still doing up, mister?"

Mikey grinned at his big brother. "Can you read to me, I can't read some of the big words," he pleaded with an angelic smile.

"Maybe tomorrow night, okay, bud?" he said, ruffling Mikey's minnie Nate hair-do. "Our friend's here," he nodded towards me.

"Pleeaase!" Mikey begged.

"I don't mind," I spoke up suddenly, surprising even myself.

Nate turned to me, and apparently I had caught him by surprise as well.

"Awesome!" Mikey exclaimed, jumping off the bed and grabbing both of our hands excitedly. "We can go to my room and Mitchie can choose which book!"

---

I don't know why, but sitting beside Mikey on his bed, listening as Nate read to him had been the most wonderful feeling in the world. Everything had seemed so _right_, and it had made me feel like somehow everything was going to be okay.

Nate closed the book he had now finished reading. "Okay, little man, that's the third book now, time for bed."

"Aw, but Mitchie wants you to read another one, don't you, Mitchie?" he turned to me, a pleading look in his eyes.

"Mikey..." Nate warned, and I wanted to laugh out loud, because he sounded like such a dad.

"Okay, fine," he pretended to sulk, sinking more into his covers.

Nate rolled his eyes, smiling. "Night," he said, turning to put the book away on the shelf.

"No, you have to say it properly," Mikey ordered him.

Nate glanced at me, blushing a little, and then mumbled, "Goodnight, Mickey mouse." He nudged him playfully on the chin with his fist and went to walk away, but Mikey caught his arm, pulling Nate down to whisper something in his ear.

Nate glanced at me, looking embarrassed, and then pulled away from Mikey, shaking his head. "Goodnight, Mikey," he said in that fatherly-warning tone again.

"G'night, Mitchie," Mikey yawned, holding his arms out to me. I hugged him gently, pushing his hair away from his face afterwards.

"Goodnight, tyke," I winked playfully, and he smiled back at me.

We left Mikey's room, Nate turning off the light and closing the door as we left, and made our way to his.

Once I had stepped into his room, I turned to face him as he closed the door. And we simply stood staring at each other, the room silent and more awkward than it had ever been.

He stepped towards me slowly, closing the distance a little, and I filled my lungs, opening my mouth to say something, anything to break the silence.

Though we should be so used to the silence by now.

I still wanted to ask him what it was that had happened, and I could feel the words forming on my tongue. But all I could do to break the silence was to talk to him in the only way I knew how, and it only took me a second to close the final bit of distance between us and pull his lips down to mine.

He pushed me back towards his bed, and everything returned to the way it always was.

---

Once we were done, we got dressed, I stood by his window, and we stared at each other for a moment; a silent 'goodbye', 'I hope you'll be okay', and 'I guess we'll be seeing each other again soon'.

Then I slipped out his window like every other time, contemplating the two things I had learnt about Nate that night.

One: He would someday, be to somebody, the most wonderful father you could ever imagine.

And, two: Whatever it was that had happened with his mom; it had been bad.

I crawled into my window, hoping, praying, my uncle was now asleep.

* * *

_AN: Okay, so halfway through writing this I thought something to myself and just randomly burst out laughing. Lucky no one was around. But anyway, I thought, this story is like the benjamin button of relationships lol, sex first, talking last._

_Yeah, I know, it's not that funny, but I'm pretty lame so I thought it was._

_Anyway, pleease, I'm like Mikey style begging you to review!! :D  
_


	3. Chapter Two

_Summary: We used to be best friends, but we don't talk much anymore. At least, not in the way you think. NateMitchie. Can an old, slightly fading friendship turned to for comfort and certain other benefits become something more?  
_

_Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or Camp Rock.

* * *

_

**Chapter Two:**

---

It seemed as if my uncle's bashings were getting worse and worse with every passing day. Dozens of new bruises littered my skin, making me wince in pain with every move I made. I was scared to leave my room, scared to stay, and I shuddered to think how things could get any worse.

So I made my way to my only safe harbour.

Nate's room.

I crawled into his window (as slowly as I possibly could, and trying not to trip in the darkness), but was surprised to find his room completely empty. I shouldn't have expected him to have been sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for me like he always does, because I hadn't exactly told him I was coming.

It had been a spur of the moment need for his comfort, and because he wasn't there, I considered returning to my room, but then shuddered at the thought. Instead, I moved over to his bed, sitting down right on the edge. I noticed Stevie Wonder on the floor, and felt a faint smile tugging at the edges of my lips. I picked him up and started playing with him on my lap absentmindedly.

Stevie Wonder was Nate's old Teddy Bear, in case you were wondering.

After a while, I began to think that maybe he had pulled a double shift at work. It definitely wouldn't be the first time.

I sighed, looking down to my lap. "Stevie, why is this happening to him?" I asked sadly, as if he would answer me. He just stared back with his unchanged beaded eyes.

I shook my head slightly, placing him gently down on the bed beside me. And then I heard muffled voices coming from downstairs. I could tell instantly that one belonged to Nate. The conversation sounded strained, tense, but his voice remained gentle, so caring. It always does, even when the situation calls for it not to be. The other voice sounded distressed and snappy, and I heard the shatter of something breaking. There was a long silence, and then came Nate's gentle voice again, only this time it had a desperate and pleading edge to it. There was another long moment of silence, and then I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. The other voice had been his mother's.

I stood up off the bed suddenly, and the movement caused Stevie to fall to the ground again.

Nate pulled his door open, closing it gently behind him, as he rested his forehead and palms against it.

He hadn't seen me.

And I just stood, eyes wide, staring at him for a moment. I was completely mesmerised. I could practically feel the anger and desperation boiling up inside of him, and yet he kept it so hidden, kept it behind closed doors for no one else to see.

His shoulders were shuddering now, and I took a few tentative steps towards him, feeling an indescribable urge to just take his pain away. And then, in an unexpected, aggressive move, he balled his fists up, slamming them both sideways up against the door. And again, and again...

I jumped back, pulling in a sharp gust of air, and then shot forwards, grabbing his hands and pulling them away before he could hurt himself. He looked up at me then, and I felt my heart silently shatter into a million pieces as my eyes fell upon his tear-streaked cheeks.

His name slipped from my lips, sounding so full of worry.

And for once, his face didn't light up, he didn't ask if I was okay, he just crashed his mouth to mine, pulling my body flush up against his.

The sudden movement made me gasp into the kiss with pain, and I tried to pull away, but his hand moved up to the back of my head, his fingers clinging to my hair like it was his only source of life; and he was silently begging me please.

I felt his chest shudder against mine as another silent tear escaped him. My heart broke for him for the second time that night, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down to the bed on top of me, giving in and completely losing myself in him.

---

After only ten minutes of being under my own covers, I heard my cellphone vibrate. And already knowing who it was, I reached over and grabbed it, reading the received message.

'_Mitchie... I'm so sorry..._' it said.

I felt a painful throb in my chest at his words. Whenever Nate said he was sorry, it meant he was really sorry. And whenever Nate said he was _so _sorry, it meant that he was completely drowning himself in his own guilt.

I hurried to reply.

'_Please, Nate, don't be. You're my best friend. Always._'

And it was every part true. He was my best friend. All this time, we always had been, even if neither of us had stated it in years.

My body gave a slight protest of pain as I lowered myself back down again, but I didn't care. It was somehow a comforting sort of pain. I cared for him so much, more than I could say, and he had really needed me. And despite what he thought, I had really needed him, too.

I waited awake a while for him to reply, but he didn't, and so after a while, I drifted off to sleep.

---

_I stood at Nate's door, bouncing up and down on my toes excitedly, his birthday present held in my hands._

_My father chuckled from behind me, patting his hand on my shoulder gently, "Settle down, my little jumping bean."_

_"Sweetie, you only saw him a few hours ago," my mom added, clearly confused as to why I was so excited._

_I rolled my eyes childishly at them, continuing my up and down bouncing on the spot. Hadn't they learned, that when it came to Nate, my bestest friend in the whole world, a few hours was always much too long. And plus, I had been so anxious to give him his present all day, which my parents had insisted I wait until tonight, at our weekly family-neighbour get together, to give to him. If it had been up to me, I would've given it to him when I had woken him up at five-thirty this morning. I smiled to myself, remembering how I had bounded in through his window and on top of him to be the very first to wish him a 'happy eleventh birthday', singing and all, as he had blushed and tried to pull his blankets over his head._

_The door opened then, and I shot inside. "Evening, Mr and Mrs Patterson! Hi there, Mikey," I made a face at the one-year-old, and he gurgled at me, bouncing up and down in his mother's arms happily. "Bye!" I called back to everyone, turning to race up the stairs as fast as my legs would take me.  
_

_I heard our parents let out a faint chuckle from behind me, all happily greeting each other afterwards._

_Whatever they always did after that, I never knew, I had already barged into Nate's room, finding him sitting on the edge of his bed, playing around with the guitar his parents had given him for his birthday._

_At the sight of me, his face lit up, and he practically dropped his guitar as he stood up. I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms excitedly around his middle._

_"Happy birthday, Natey!" I smiled._

_He blushed slightly, wrapping his arms around me, too. "I think you already said that today... four times."_

_I just shrugged, pulling away with a bright smile. He always got so embarrassed, it was pretty entertaining.  
_

_"Guess what, I already learnt a couple of chords," he told me, excitement lighting up his hazel-brown eyes._

_"Wow, you're going to be, like, the next Stevie Wonder," I told him with a proud smile._

_His eyes narrowed at me. "You do know Stevie plays the keyboard, not the guitar, right?"_

_I laughed at how defensive he had gotten. "Hey, he's_ your_ favourite singer, not mine. Would you have liked it better if I had said__ you were going to be the next Delta Goodrem?" I teased with a huge grin on my face._

_He put his hands on his hips in an I'm-so-much-smarter-than-you way, "She plays the piano."_

_I rolled my eyes at him, putting my hands to my hips too. "Um, and she's a girl," I stated the obvious, which he had missed, "But okay." _

_Both our arms dropped then, and we laughed a little together.  
_

_"Anyway," I said, holding out my present to him, "Here you go, birthday boy."_

_He blushed, "Seriously, don't call me that again."_

_"Okay, birthday boy."_

_He glared at me, and I just smiled back innocently. He rolled his eyes, and then sat back down on his bed, placing the wrapped present in his lap.  
_

_That's another thing about Nate; he unwraps presents like a fifty-year-old lady._

_When he had unwrapped it, he picked it up by the ear, raising his brow at me. "You did know you were buying a present for an eleven-year-old guy, right?"_

_"Yep," I grinned, "And you've had mine for three years now, so I thought it was time you had one of your own."_

_He blushed at that._

_"Look," I pointed out, "He's even all scruffy, so he'll match your hair."_

_He glared at me, standing up. "Fine, you can have yours back. I didn't even know I had it."_

_I smile to myself, seeing my blue care-bear sitting up against his pillows._

_"This one's cooler anyway."_

_"That's 'cuz I picked it out," I grinned._

_He glared at me for a moment, and then smirked. "I think I'll call him 'Stevie Wonder'."_

_My mouth dropped open. "What? You can't call him that?"_

_"He's my bear," he stated, still smirking._

_I was speechless for a moment. "Well that's a really dumb name," I said finally, crossing my arms in front of my chest stubbornly._

_"Admit it, it's the coolest name you've ever heard for a bear," he smiled, moving forward._

_"No way! It's, like, the **worst**__ name I've ever heard."_

_"Are you sure about that?" He said, stepping forward again, a mischievous look in his eyes. And before I realised, it had been too late._

_In a split second, he had dropped Stevie to the floor, grabbing me by the waist and pushing me down to the bed with him, full on tickle-attacking me._

_I let out a scream, squirming around, but he was stronger than me. _

_"Okay, okay!" I barely managed to scream out._

_"Okay, what?"_

_Grr, he was clearly enjoying this too much._

_"It's the coolest name in the history of teddy bears!" I screamed, barely being able to breathe now._

_"And...?" he smirked, not easing up on the attack._

_"And I love your scruffy hair!" I screamed anything, desperate for it to be over._

_"Good enough," he said, sitting up off of me._

_I caught my breath, sitting up too. Then I said quickly, "Just kidding. Stevie Wonder is still the worst name I've ever heard, and your scruffy hair looks stupid."_

_His jaw fell, and I raced out of the room with him chasing right after me._

_---_

I was awoken by something all of a sudden, and I sat up in bed, the warm memories of the dream quickly fading. I shivered, feeling cold for some reason.

I picked up my phone, but there were still no messages, so it hadn't been that that had woken me. I looked out the window. It was pitch black and there was a soft patter of rain falling against the glass. But again, it was too quiet to have woken me.

And then I heard it.

My uncle's booming voice calling me from downstairs. I froze up, completely terrified, because for some reason, I had a terrible feeling churning in my gut this time.

My uncle was storming up the stairs now, and the most eerie feeling I had ever had in my life fell over me, and I didn't know why. I glanced back to my window, to Nate's window, and I shoved the blankets off of me, making a break towards it.

But it was too late. I heard my door crash open, and a second later two rough hands crushed around my ribs, ripping me back.

* * *

_AN: Review? It will make me update much faster if I know that there is a reason for me to._


	4. Chapter Three

_AN: Hey guys, first of all, I just wanted to thank you all for the awsome reviews I got for the last chapter. Seriously, they made me smile so much. Anyway, sorry, this chapter ended up taking longer to write than I originally thought it would, it was so emotionally draining for some reason. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this next part, and don't forget to review!_

_Disclaimer: Nope don't own camp rock or the characters... if I did, I would be like... hey, cool, I own camp rock and the characters... but I don't._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter Three:**

---**  
**

_My uncle was storming up the stairs now, and the most eerie feeling I had ever had in my life fell over me, and I didn't know why. I glanced back to my window, to Nate's window, and I shoved the blankets off of me, making a break towards it._

_But it was too late. I heard my door crash open, and a second later two rough hands crushed around my ribs, ripping me back._

---

Four hours. Four hours and sixteen minutes, and I still hadn't moved.

Had it really happened? To me? I wanted to shake my head, but it wouldn't budge.

It didn't feel like it. It felt more like I was watching from afar. I didn't even feel like I was connected to my own body.

I hadn't even cried yet. At least, I don't think I had cried. My memory was slightly hazy.

I can't remember what happened for a little while, and the next thing I knew, the sun was seeping in through my window, hitting my toes. I didn't like it, so I moved finally, pulling my knees further into my chest, making an even tighter ball out of my body.

I felt a sudden wave of tiredness. But I couldn't. No, I had to stay awake; alert. It could happen again, at any time. Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake.

I don't know how much time passed.

I was so tired.

My phone went off, but I just stared blankly ahead.

It could of been half an hour, or just a couple of minutes, and it went off again. And again. Once more, and then the world seemed to leave me alone for a little while.

Some more time passed, or maybe a lot of time, and the sunlight was starting to fade. I think I might have been slightly out of it; but still awake. I heard a noise, and looked up to see Nate crouching on my window sill. He jumped down, landing lightly on his feet, and brushed off his knees. The action made him look like a kid again, and for some reason I almost burst into tears as childhood memories were brought back to life in my mind.

I guess he hadn't climbed through my window in... since his dad had died.

He looked up at me and stopped abruptly. "Mitchie?"

His voice sounded laced with worry.

There was a lump in my throat, and I couldn't answer.

He moved closer, kneeling beside my bed. I was shivering for some reason. "Mitch, are you okay?"

I wanted to tell him 'no'. I wanted to tell him everything that had happened. But I couldn't. I couldn't ever. I was so ashamed.

"I can't... I can't..." I mumbled, wanting so badly to just cry, but I was too numb.

"You can't...? Mitchie, what is it?"

I just shook my head weakly, clasping my mouth shut, and hugging my legs tighter.

His brows furrowed. "Are you...?" he moved his hand forward, as if to feel my forehead, but before I had even realised what he was doing, I flinched away from his touch. He pulled his hand back as if he had been burnt, his eyes angst filled. He looked away, seeming to struggle internally for a moment. And I realised then, just how worn out he truely looked; more so than usual. Finally, he began to speak.

"Mitchie. Last night... I'm so sorry. I hurt you - I... I was such an idiot. All this time, I... I've been wanting to protect you... I... just... _God_, I've always cared about you more than myself, and... last night, I just... slipped-"

No, no, no. How could he think this was his fault? He was the only thing that was keeping me breathing. I wanted to tell him so much, just what he meant to me, and that it wasn't his fault, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the words to come out. I just couldn't tell him the truth. He continued, speaking to the floor.

"I was so selfish... and now - I... I fucked everything up, and you're hurt. It's all my fault..." He had his head in his hands now,"I can't believe I made you hurt, Mitchie... I'm so sorry."

_No Nate, stop, please. You have no idea how wrong you are._

He looked back up, and his eyes were glistening. "I promise, Mitch, I won't ever touch you again. Just, please, tell me you forgive me? I know it's so selfish, but I can't... I can't deal without you."

He was staring at me pleadingly, but I still couldn't speak. This was too much. I didn't know why, but I couldn't feel... anything right now. And everything that he had just said... He had confessed more to me than he ever had... and I know it hadn't been easy for him. But it was too much... too much to take in right now.

"Mitch. _Please_."

He waited for me to say something, and I could see him physically sinking with each second that passed. Until he finally decided I wasn't going to say anything. If only he knew how much I wanted to. How much I wanted to tell him everything that had happened.

"I still care more about you than myself, so if you want me to stay away from you... I promise I will. I'll do whatever you want."

No. I didn't want him to leave me. That was the worst thing he could do. I bit my lip and shook my head.

But he didn't know what I meant. He swallowed and looked down. "Do you want me to leave?"

He looked up cautiously when I didn't answer. And then he exhaled softly in defeat, getting to his feet and looking away from me as if he were trying to hide something in his eyes.

He was going to leave. _No don't go! Don't go, don't go, don't leave me here alone!_

I sat up, the fear forcing me to find my voice finally. "Nate... No... I don't want... Don't go," I managed to choke out.

He looked back at me, looking shocked, confused and so relieved all at once.

And then I couldn't control myself. I shot forward into his chest, my hands clinging onto the back of his shirt.

"I'm so scared, Nate. I'm so scared. I can't stay here," I said with sudden panic. And I wanted so badly to cry, right there, my face buried in his chest. But no matter how much I willed the pain to escape me, the tears just wouldn't come.

I looked down to see his hands clasped tightly into fists by his sides, and pulled away self-consciously. But I looked up to find him staring at me with his usual gentle and caring eyes.

"Can I stay with you tonight? _Please?_ I can't stay here anymore, I just can't."

And it was true. I couldn't stay, because it wasn't my room anymore. It was the room where _it_ had happened. The room full of memories I wish I didn't remember. Memories that seemed more like a faraway nightmare.

"Of course. You know you don't have to ask," he said softly with sincerity. "Mitch, what happened? I've never seen you so scared."

I wanted to tell him then, so badly, to tell him and bury my head in his chest again, to feel safe as his arms wrap around me and pull me closer.

But he couldn't ever know the truth.

"Nothing... I just," I couldn't think of any excuse, "Please... I'm just so tired."

I could tell he was worried about me, but he let it go, and for that I was silently thankful. He nodded, and then followed after me.

Once we were in his room, I made for his bed and collapsed into the familiar soft covers. And finally, I was free for just a little while.

---

I vaguely felt something small but hard crash on top of me, and I stirred slightly, in a daze as to what was going on.

"Mikey! Get off her she's sleeping," I heard the most familiar and comforting voice in the world say.

"I told you you were going to marry Mitchie! See! She's sleeping in your bed, just like married people do!"

"C'mon, buddy."

I felt the small thing, Mikey, being pulled off of me, and shifted again. I was in Nate's room. Why was I in Nate's room?

"Are you gonna have a baby? Yay, I always wanted a little brother! I can teach him cool tricks and I promise I'll be the best big brother in the world!"

Nate sighed sadly. "That would be your nephew, not your brother. Mikey... Don't you remember dad?"

"But... you're my dad now."

Nate sighed again, and I could hear him walking away a little. "I'm not your dad, Mikey."

"But.."

"Just stop, Mikey! Go get ready for school... _please_."

There was a long silence, and then I heard a small sniff. "Why are you being angry?"

There was another silence, shorter this time. "I'm sorry, buddy. C'm'ere." Nate sighed again. "It's wasn't your fault, okay? I was just..."

"Getting angry at grown up stuff?"

Nate chuckled a little. "Yeah, grown up stuff." His voice then grew serious, and I could hear the sadness that he probably didn't want Mikey to hear. "It's just that... you have a dad already... and I know he's not here right now... but, he's still your dad... and sometimes I just wish you would be able to remember him like I do. He was a pretty cool guy, you know."

"Really? Even cooler than you?"

Nate chuckled again, "Oh yeah."

"Whoa," Mikey said in awe. "Can we go and visit him sometime?"

I knew Nate was struggling about how to answer that question. "... It's not like that, Mikey."

"Why isn't he here anymore?"

"He... got sick."

"Like mommy is?"

"... A little bit, but not exactly."

"Is mommy... going to go away, too?"

Nate sighed, and there was a short silence. "How 'bout you go get ready for school, kay?"

"...Okay."

I heard Mikey's footsteps, and the sound of Nate's door closing. Wait... why was I in Nate's room again?

... Oh.

_Oh_...

I opened my eyes slowly, feeling like my insides were being crushed and ripped apart as the last 24 hours registered in my mind. My eyes wandered the room, until they fell upon Nate sitting at his desk, his head resting in his hands, fingers rubbing his temples. I hoped he was okay. He looked even more worn out than he did yesterday, and I wondered if he had even slept at all.

For a long time, I simply watched him. He barely moved at all the whole time. And then the door opened again and Mikey came walking in with his school bag strapped to his back. "Ready!" he called.

Nate lifted his head, startled a little, as if he had been lost in his own world (or most likely - knowing Nate - his worries). "Oh, okay, buddy. Hang on."

He stood up, grabbing his guitar case and opening his closet.

"Hey! Mitchie's awake!"

Mikey dropped his bag off his shoulders and flew over to me, jumping up on top of me. I put on the best smile I could muster.

"Hi, Mikey!" I sat up and hugged him tightly.

Nate turned around, startled that I had been awake.

"Are you going to walk to school with me and Nate?"

"Umm... Maybe tomorrow, kay?"

"But Nate's your wife, so don't ya have to go with him like married people do?"

I couldn't help but laugh at that. It was so funny.

Nate slapped his forehead, and looked at me apologetically. I just kept laughing.

And then Mikey started laughing, which was funnier, because he didn't know what he was laughing about. He's so cute.

"Are you gonna be here when I come home?" he asked excitedly.

"Uh... I dunno, Mikey."

"Aaw, pleease! We can all play together!"

I scruffled his curls fondly, "We'll see, kay?"

"Okay," he smiled.

"Hey, Mikey, can you go get your lunch? It's on the bench. I'll be down in a second, bud."

"Okay," and he jumped off me, grabbed his bag and skipped out.

And then there was silence for a moment. And suddenly it felt so weird to be smiling. Why did it feel weird?

... Oh.

My smile dropped instantly, and my insides were being crushed and twisted and torn all over again.

Nate was staring at me. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, breaking the silence.

I bit my lip, and tried to find my voice again. "Okay," I lied.

He nodded softly. "You _can_ stay if you like... as long as you want."

I nodded.

"Mikey might like it..." he added.

I gave him a soft smile. "Okay."

"Okay," he smiled, too, "Uh... I have to take Mikey to school and go to work, but I'll be back at around four. Make yourself at home, and there's food and stuff downstairs."

"Okay. Thank-you, Nate," I said, and then decided to add, "For everything."

He nodded and then left to find Mikey. I just sunk back into his bed, finding Stevie Wonder and hugging him to me, letting the pain wash over me again.

But, still, the tears didn't come.

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_AN: Please review. Just a couple of seconds of your time can make my day. :) Review, even if it's to tell me how much it sucked. Even if you want to ask a question or give me some advice. The keyword here is review! :P_


	5. Chapter Four

_AN: So I wasn't really planning to have this next chapter up quite this quickly, buuut... that's what lots of awsome reviews can do to me (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). Oh, I am so stealth, lol. Anyway hope you all like this chapter, I tried to add a couple of random back story stuff into it for you guys :)_

_Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own Camp Rock or the characters... which is actually pretty fortunate for smitchie fans... because even though I love smitchie... nitchie all the way!!! :D

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**Chapter Four:**

---

It was strangely darker than usual for some reason, and so eerily still, except for that of the chilling breeze blowing in through the open window. I shivered and slipped out from under Nate's covers, walking as slowly as I could up to the window, trying to place my feet so that the floor boards wouldn't creek from underneath me.

The trees were swaying around in the wind outside, making soft 'cracking' noises and those freaky shaped shadows against the side of my house like they do in horror movies. But that wasn't what had caught my eye. I could see a dull, flickering light coming from my window, very similar in comparison to that of the light a candle or small lit flame creates. I tried squinting my eyes to see through my window. There was someone in there, I was sure; I could feel it. I waited in the dark silence, hearing the occasional soft 'cracckk' or 'swisshh', and watching the dim light flicker back and forth, back and forth... and... nothing. There was nobody there. I let out a silent breath of relief, and pulled the window shut, feeling the icy-breeze cease at once. I shook my head, internally chuckling at myself and turning around.

A pair of familiar hallowed eyes stared back at me.

**"Think you could hide from me?"**

My eyes shot open, my chest almost exploding as I gasped in shaky breaths. My eyes darted around the room, searching, but nobody was there. I tried to calm myself, but my heart was still racing. _Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream_...

I slowly sat up, still reluctant to let go of the blanket clasped tightly in one hand, and Stevie, who I'm sure I was currently choking under the other arm. I realised I was beaded in cold sweat and my body was trembling a little. I tried to focus on my breathing. He wouldn't just come here, just barge into someone else's home. Wait... would he? No, of course not, there could be other people around, so even if he did, he wouldn't dare... would he? I shook my head. No, even _he_ wouldn't. My breaths were more steady now, but that didn't stop me from being completely aware of the fact that he would most likely know _exactly_ where I was.

I stood up out of bed, my legs feeling a little weak beneath me, and made my way to the window. It was comforting to remember that Nate's floor never creaked, which made it clear that the dream had belonged to a different world. The light was shining in through the window also, so it didn't feel like a creepy sort of deja vu. But still, you couldn't be too careful. I closed the window shut and turned back around.

Nothing.

Nobody.

I let out another breath of relief and then stared around the room for a moment. My eyes fell upon Nate's desk, and I walked towards it.

Books and papers were scattered in a disarray all over it, which was unusual for Nate. I had seen enough of his room to know that it was usually more tidy than any other teenager's on the planet. Running my fingers over a page of his scribbled writing, I wondered how he had time for all of this. For work, for school, for looking after Mikey, for looking after his mom... for looking after me. He had the world on his shoulders, and I knew it. No wonder he had looked so warn out lately.

And then the familiar hate started to bubble up in my stomach. Hate for his mother - if you could call her that. She was the one who was supposed to be working and looking after Mikey, not Nate. She was supposed to be looking after _Nate_. So why was it the other way around? Why couldn't she see how much weight she alone was putting on Nate's shoulders? Why couldn't she see how tired he was? Didn't she even feel one _ounce_ of guilt for what she was doing to her own son?

I sighed, shaking my head. I had to stop getting myself so worked up about Nate's situation, or one day, it wouldn't just be myself I was asking those questions to.

Still, I wished there was something, anything, I could do to help him. And I wondered to myself suddenly, why he was still here. Why he hadn't taken Mikey and run.

Though, as selfish as it might be, I was glad he hadn't. I didn't even want to imagine what life would be like without him here.

I turned away, now wandering around his room and vaguely wondering what I was supposed to do until he got home. And then I stopped dead.

I hadn't showered.

I hadn't showered since... since...

At once I both felt the sadness tugging painfully at my insides at the memory, and the urge to vomit right there on the floor.

I couldn't believe I was still in the very same clothes.

I had to change.

I looked over towards my window and shuddered. I couldn't go back there; not even for clothes. So instead I hastily made my way to Nate's closet and pulled out one of his old band tees and a pair of old grey sweatpants. I was about to run to the bathroom, when I saw the sheets on Nate's bed. I had slept on those sheets in _these_ clothes. Repelling the urge to vomit again, I dropped Nate's clothes to the floor and stormed over to his bed, ripping them off and scrunching them to the floor. I felt so frustrated for some reason. So frustrated I felt like I might cry. And I froze, feeling the tears brimming in my eyes. Was this it? Was I going to cry finally?

_Cry, please cry. C'mon, please cry. Dammit, Mitchie! Why won't you **cry**!!_

Frustration boiled up inside of me again. I felt so worthless that I couldn't even do something so simple as _crying_. I gritted my teeth and snatched up the sheets, and then sighed when I noticed Stevie on the floor too.

"I'm sorry Stevie..." I mumbled, picking him up too.

I found the laundry easily enough, remembering the time I had found Nate hiding in the laundry basket when we had played hide-and-go-seek all those years ago. Such an innocent game seemed so far away now. Then I rushed upstairs, snatched the clothes up off of Nate's floor and ran straight to the shower, not wanting to stop until I got the stench of this horrid memory off of me.

And that was the longest I had ever spent in a shower. I had scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin was raw, the heat of the water stinging.

I had to roll Nate's pants up a little, and tighten the drawstring so they would stay up, but once I was in his clothes, I was surprised to realise that I felt a little safer.

I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen, my hair still damp. I opened the fridge and my stomach gave a painful growl. I cringed, holding my hand to my stomach. I hadn't even eaten anything since-

I slammed the fridge door closed again, trying to ignore the sickening squirming in my stomach.

I made my way into the living room, needing something to take my mind off of everything. And I jumped back when I saw Nate's dead mother on the couch.

I was about to scream, when she stirred a little. I was still frozen, eyes wide, but my pounding heart was starting to slow a little. She wasn't dead. Just passed out. There was a bottle of pills on the coffee table beside her, the lid opened and lying beside it. And I brought my hand to my mouth. Because I had never seen anything like this before; something so... sad.

It was the first time I had seen her in years, but I could still recogniser her. Through the dark, bruise-like circles under her eyes, her pale, sweat-beaded skin and almost blue lips. I could still remember the gentle smile that had graced her features when she would play with Mikey in her arms, the light-hearted chuckle as Nate and I rushed passed her excitedly, to do whatever crazed thing we were doing at the time. The way she would tap Nate's nose with the tip of her finger after she kissed him, and the way she would look at him like he was the most blessed gift she had ever been given.

I felt my heart throb for her, for Nate, even for Mikey. And I realised then, that Nate still loved her. That through everything she had put him through, he still loved her. Because she was still his mom.

I bit my lip, thinking I was going to cry. But of course, that wasn't even humanly possible for me anymore.

I noticed then a book lying open on the table beside the small orange lid. I took a quiet step forward, and saw it was an old photo album. It was open to a picture of Nate's family: Nate's dad was smiling happily at the camera, and his arm was wrapped gently around Nate's mom's waist, who was laughing brightly at the face Mikey was making in her arms. His dad's other arm was resting on Nate's shoulder proudly, and Nate was smiling. Actually smiling. One of his teeth just off to the side were missing. I could feel myself smile a little at the picture, and glancing at Nate's mom to make sure she was still asleep, I grabbed the photo album and took it with me upstairs to Nate's room.

---

A lot of things I had realised when looking through the old photo album.

One: I had forgotten how happy it was possible for Nate to be. That made me sad. Because he hadn't been happy in years.

Two: Apparently Nate and I had dressed up in wedding clothes once. I'm guessing his mom had thought it was cute, because there were about a million pictures. My favourite was the one where Nate was smiling at me with his arms held out, and I was turned away with my arms crossed in front of my chest. That had made me laugh. We looked pretty young and I had no memory of it whatsoever.

Three: How much I missed Nate's dad. I never truly realised it before. But looking back on photos with me and Nate on his shoulders, him taking us fishing and us standing next to him as he barbecued, both wearing mini 'chef 1' and 'chef 2' aprons and holding mini spatulas, I realised he had almost been like a second father to me.

Four: How devistatingly much I missed my own parents.

Five: How faraway these memories seemed now. How different both of our lives had become.

Six: That I really missed Nate, so much it almost hurt. Which was weird. I had seen him only hours ago. Maybe, I thought, I missed the _old _Nate, the eleven-year-old Nate staring back at me from the photos with a huge grin plastered on his face. But a nagging feeling kept telling me that wasn't it at all.

But the thing that had struck me the most: Nate's dad wasn't in a lot of the pictures before he had died. And thinking back really hard, I realised he hadn't been there at all that much in his final year or so. 'Not feeling up to it' or 'a little under the weather' were some of the things I recalled his mom saying when my parents had asked. And was it me or did Nate and his mom look a little sadder than they used to?

I sighed, closing the album and laying down so I was resting my head beside it on the floor.

---

I felt something lightly shaking me. "Mitchie? Mitchie, wake up."

My eyes shot open, and I sat up so quickly I almost knocked someone to the ground. My eyes darted around the room, but he wasn't there. _Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream..._

"Mitch, are you okay?"

I turned to see Nate kneeling beside me. I nodded at his question, trying to catch my breath.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

I nodded again, tears brimming in my eyes but not falling. And then, without any warning, I threw my arms around his middle, leaning into his chest. He froze for a moment, and then hesitantly pat my back a little. I pulled back and he was looking at me worriedly.

"Mitch... is there something you want to tell me? You seem so... different."

I could tell he really was worried about me.

I just shook my head, managing to find my voice, "I'm fine."

He didn't buy it. But he either decided to let it go, or was waiting for another time.

"So I see you got sick of your own clothes."

I bit my lip, blushing, and tried to hide my body behind my knees.

He chuckled a little. "And I see the sheet bandit stopped by, also."

He was trying to cheer me up. And it was such a lame joke that I was almost embarrassed _for_ him.

But it worked. I couldn't hold back the small smile that crept up on my lips.

"I think they kidnapped Stevie," I added.

Nate grimaced, but then shrugged, "He wasn't that cool anyway."

"Hey!" I frowned.

He just laughed.

"So where's Mikey?" I asked.

"Eating. That's why I came up, I made some for you as well. It's downstairs. I think Mikey's excited to tell you about something, so..."

I laughed a little, "Okay, I'll go down now." I noticed a plate of food on the floor beside Nate. "Aren't you eating with us?" I asked.

"This is... for my mom," he mumbled, and I felt sad again as I remembered what I had seen this morning.

"Okay..." I said, looking down. I got up slowly, and so did he. And I looked back up at him before I walked away. "Thanks, Nate... I'm sure everyone appreciates what you do for them, even if they don't say it," I added in, hoping he would understand.

He stared at me for a moment, and then nodded sadly. And I turned to make my way downstairs to find Mikey.

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_AN: Soooo? Did you guys like it? And I just randomly wanted to ask something cuz I'm just generally curious what would be the majority answer, but who do you guys feel more sorry for? Mitchie or Nate? I kinda have my own oppinion, but I'm just really interested to know what you guys think._


	6. Chapter Five

_AN: So I asked you all last chapter who you guys felt more sorry for and it was close but I think Nate won by two... and hey Stevie even got a vote... :S hehe sorry C, I will try to be more nice to him in future chapters :P. As for who I feel more sorry for... well, whilst I don't think anything could quite compare to what Mitchie has just been through... I think I feel a tad more sorry for Nate... but only because I know what he has coming, and stuff from the past that hasn't been revealed just yet... but don't worry you guys will find out, just keep up with your awsome reviews that always inspire me to keep writing ;). Anyway, I had already uploaded a sixth chapter but then I felt like I had killed the tension for some reason, so I rewrote it. Yep, I spent a lot of time on this one, so I really hope you all like it... and to those... I think it was 7 people who read the deleted chapter... sorryyyyy hope you like this chapter better :)._

_Disclaimer: Nope... otherwise Stevie would've world dominated as much as the Jobros!! :P

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**Chapter Five:**

---

I lay completely awake, watching as Nate slept peacefully beside me.

I had barely slept in the last few days, it was just too hard to have the horrible memories come back to life in my dreams. All I wanted was to forget.

Nate stirred a little beside me, and I glanced back at him. His face was contorted into a painful expression, and he looked anything but peaceful now.

"Mom... please..." he mumbled almost incoherently.

I sucked in a breath and bit my lip. He stirred again, the space between his brows creasing in worry and pain.

"... Wake-wake-up... D-don't leave me... alone... Can't... Don't go..." a tear slipped down his cheek, and I hesitantly reached my hand out, my heart aching as it came into contact with the soft damp skin there. He stirred once more, but then seemed to calm at my touch. I ran my hand slowly down his cheek, and then gently brushed the tips of my fingers across the fading crease between his brows, and the soft bags under his closed eyes. His face became peaceful again, and I sighed quietly with relief.

"Mitchie..." he breathed out, and I bit my lip again, really not meaning to have woken him. I held my breath, but his eyes remained closed. I silently began to breathe again, relief flooding through me, knowing he needed as much sleep as he could get. I slowly moved Stevie away from me, and pushed him gently to Nate's chest, smiling softly at the picture. And then I rolled so I was facing away from him, not wanting to disrupt his sleep any further. I yawned deeply, but rubbed at my eyes, forcing myself to stay awake.

I shivered a little as the cold breeze brushed against my skin, and I reached for Nate's blanket. But then I looked up, confused as I saw the window open. I hadn't remembered it being open.

And then a movement in the corner of my eye made me scream. I jumped back, bumping into Nate, and shot up, the covers clung tightly in my hands.

"What...? Mitch... Shh, Mitch, it's okay, shh," I felt myself being pulled into Nate gently, and I realised I had still been screaming. I clamped my mouth closed, the only thing I could do to stop from screaming in panic again, and let out a few terrified whimpers and began trembling out of control into his chest. And then I urgently pulled away, turning back to what was now just an empty space. No, I had seen him, I swear I had seen him with my own eyes, standing there, right here in Nate's room, staring...

I stood up, running to close the window in panic... but it was. I just stood there, still trembling with fear, the image so fresh and clear in my mind.

I felt Nate's warm hands close gently around my wrists, turning me to face him. He looked terrified, too. "Mitch... breathe! I think you're having a panic attack!"

I realised then that my chest felt like it was going to explode in agony. I pulled in a quick, shaken breath, and tried to steady my breathing again. I kept looking around me, as if he was going to appear right next to me again.

Nate's hands moved to the sides of my face, stopping my frantic glances, and he began to rub one hand through my hair, trying desperately to soothe me. "Mitch, it's okay, I swear... Nothings here, just you and me."

I nodded, the beginning of tears stinging at my eyes and feeling severely shaken.

"God, what _happened_ to you, Mitchie?" He asked me, his worried eyes searching mine desperately. He was referring to what I could never tell him.

I shook my head, "Nothing... I... I think I just had a-" no, _hallucination _would be a bad thing to say, that would just worry him more, so I lied, "-a dream... I just had a bad dream."

He stared at me, not believing a word. And this time, he didn't just let it go.

"Mitchie, tell me the truth. _Please_."

"I..." I sighed, "I can't, Nate... I _can't_."

He stared at me, his brows furrowed, "What did he _do_ to you?"

My eyes grew wide, and I held my breath. If he knew 'who', it would only be a matter of time before he figured out 'what'. There were only so many 'what's after all.

I shook my head again. "No, it wasn't him. I just... I can't tell you. Please, Nate... just let it go..." I pleaded desperately.

He didn't look happy at all, but he did as I asked. He nodded slowly, and his hands left me as he took a small step back.

"I'm sorry," I told him, meaning it so much more than he knew. I was sorry that I couldn't tell him, sorry for worrying him, sorry for adding to the pressures he already had too much of. "I- I think I'm just going to go home," I said.

"No," he shook his head, surprising me at how demanding he sounded.

"What?"

"I don't want you to, Mitchie," he said in that same demanding tone, "Look at you... I don't think it's a good idea, and I definitely don't feel comfortable with it."

"Just for tonight, so we can both get some sleep," I told him, turning to go. But his hand caught my arm, turning me back again.

"I'm not going back to sleep again, despite whether you leave or not," he insisted, "So if your leaving for my sake-"

"No, I'm not," I lied. "I just- I-" I tried not to shudder as I said it, "I think I miss my own bed."

But he still seemed so reluctant to let go. "Please, Mitchie, it's not going anywhere. Just stay... one more night."

I looked into his pleading eyes and couldn't help but nod in defeat. He smiled in relief.

"Just at least let me get some of my own clothes?" I asked, gesturing to his extremely old, red 'mickey mouse' shirt and black sweat pants.

He bit his lip, but nodded finally, releasing his hold on me. I turned towards the window, and heard him speak again. "Ten minutes," he said, almost sternly.

I rolled my eyes and turned back. "Someone's a little overprotective tonight," I joked.

But he didn't seem to think it was funny. He just stared at me deeply, with that if-only-you-knew sort of expression.

I sighed and turned back, climbing out his window.

I shivered as I stepped lightly into my room. It was so strange being back here again. I thought I would have been terrified, but I felt strangely... invigorated. There was so much adrenaline pumping through me I finally felt like I was alive again. I moved towards my closet, when suddenly I heard my uncle's distant snoring fill my ears. I cringed, feeling nauseatingly sick, right down to the bone. How could he even still sleep, knowing what he had done to me? Did he have nightmares like I did? Did the memories haunt him every minute of everyday like they did for me? Did he feel **guilty**?

My hands curled into fists, and I felt the beginning of tears sting at my eyes once more. I blinked, but still, they didn't fall. I bit my lip, so hard I could taste the blood, but I didn't feel any pain.

Would he ever get what he deserved for doing what he did to me? How could he live with himself? Would he ever feel one _second_ of remorse?

All that answered me was another stiffled snore.

Or maybe... maybe he got some sort of sick pleasure out of what he had done. I could feel myself almost snarling.

And then, as if I no longer had control of myself, like someone else was leading me there, I marched straight down the stairs into the kitchen. I ripped open a draw, taking no care in my noise levels, and pulled out a sharp knife.

I stared at it for a long while, clasping my fingers around it tightly.

My heart was pumping so fast, and the anger and hate and disgust were swelling up inside of me, taking over me completely. And it was like there was nothing left of me, just the hate and the pain and the sickening need for revenge.

And then suddenly, I let the knife fall lifelessly from my hand, and it clattered noisily to the floor. I held both hands to my face, stepping away from it like I was afraid of it. And I was. I was afraid of what it could do, and how much I had wanted that for just a minute. I was afraid of myself.

I turned on my heel and fled.

When I got back to Nate's room he was sitting on his bed, tapping his foot restlessly, waiting for me. He turned towards me when he heard my feet hit the ground. His eyes widened, and he got to his feet, slowly making his way over to me.

I was breathing harshly and I could barely see through the blur of tears that were forming in my eyes.

He stopped just in front of me, not knowing what to do.

I looked at him, a few silent tears slipping from my eyes, and without a word, I collapsed right into him, his arms wrapping around me instantly to stop me from falling to the ground. I leant all of my weight into him in agony, and he let us sink to the floor, rocking me back and forth in his arms.

And I cried. For the first time since that night, I cried.

I cried in anger and in pain, in hurt, confusion, helplessness, hate, fear...

I cried and I didn't stop. And Nate wordlessly held me to him, his arms tight like he would never let go.

I cried until finally, I fell asleep.

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_AN: Jeez what a depressing chapter... sorry... please review!_


	7. Chapter Six

_AN: Apparently my story is too depressing. Eh, don't worry I kind of agree, so here's a little bit of sunshine. Hope you enjoy, it might not last very long..._

_Disclaimer: Don't own. Except for Stevie Wonder... the teddy bear, not the person... yikes, that could've been a major law suit lol._

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**Chapter Six:**

---

I woke up in Nate's bed, not quite sure how I had gotten there.

The door opened and I heard Nate's hushed voice. "Not right now, Mikey. Wait downstairs, okay? I'll be down in a sec."

I heard Mikey pleading something, but couldn't quite make it out.

"Okay, I'll ask her."

"Awesome!" Mikey exclaimed, loud enough for me to hear.

"That doesn't mean the answer is 'yes' though, okay?" Nate added, obviously not wanting to get his hopes up about something.

Mikey mumbled a short response, and I heard his light footsteps head downstairs.

Nate opened the door fully then, and he walked up to the bed, seeing that I was awake. He sat down on the edge of it beside me, causing me to roll gently into his leg. It felt warm and strangely calming, so I didn't move back.

"How are you feeling?" He asked anxiously, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

I closed my eyes and let out a silent sigh, feeling quite content under his touch. I opened them again to smile at him softly. "I think... I think I'm feeling a lot better," I said, for once speaking truthfully. Crying last night, for what could have been hours in Nate's arms, had felt like finally letting out everything that I had been bottling inside for so long. And whilst those horrible memories were still there, I didn't feel like they were controlling me anymore. I felt a little like I could breathe again.

Nate looked like he was going to cry, and for a moment I was scared he was going to. But then he leant forwards and engulfed me in a tight hug. He let out a breath of relief against my cheek, "Thank God, Mitch. I was more worried than you'll ever know."

After a long moment he pulled away, and I rolled my eyes playfully. "God, you're so _mushy_," I laughed, poking his cheek fondly.

He rolled his eyes, too. "Sorry, I'll try to tone it down for you," he chuckled gently.

And then we just sat in a comfortable silence for a little while.

"So what did Mikey want?" I spoke up finally.

Nate seemed to pull away from his trance. "Oh, uh, he was hoping you might walk with us today... but, you don't have to if-"

I shook my head, cutting him off. "No, it's okay. I think I'd like that," I smiled up at him. But then I remembered something, and I bit my lip. "Oh..."

"What is it?" he asked gently.

"Uh... it's just... I kind of have... nothing to wear," I said, a little embarrassed as I gestured down to the clothes of his I was still wearing.

"Actually, you kind of do," he disagreed, smiling.

I rolled my eyes at him, "Um, Nate, I don't think it's quite as socially acceptable for me to wear your clothes out in public as you seem to-"

He rolled his eyes right back at me and touched a finger to my lips to shut me up. Then, holding out his hands for me to take, he pulled me out of bed and lead me slowly to his closet.

"Okay, I've already seen all of your clothes before, Nate, and I don't think any of them are going to... Oh..."

Nate stood with his hand resting on the open door, smirking at me. And I gaped as I saw most of my clothes hanging to one side of the closet next to his. "You- you went back to get my clothes?" I asked him, feeling touched for some weird reason.

He nodded and then stepped forward to open his top drawer. Inside there was a brush, a small bag full of my bathroom things, and-

My cheeks began to heat up, and I looked at him, mortified. "You... went into my underwear draw?" I gasped, not out of anger but with shock and embarrassment.

"Uh..." he began to blush a little too, and he ran his hand through the back of his hair awkwardly, "Well... you kind of... need them, don't you?"

"I... Well, yeah... I guess, but-"

"Well, it's not like... I haven't seen them before?" he cringed immediately at the words that had come out of his mouth. "I- I mean," he let out a breath, and then his expression turned serious, "I just wanted to make sure you had everything, so... So you wouldn't have to go back there again."

I bit my lip at the thought, and I was silently glad that he had. "Thank-you," I breathed out, meaning it completely.

He nodded, and took the chance to leave. "So... I'll let you..." he nodded towards my clothes, "We'll meet you downstairs."

"Okay," I smiled, and he turned to leave. "Oh, and Nate?"

"Hm?" he said, turning back to me with his hand on the doorknob.

"Thank-you for bringing me my underwear." I laughed as his face adorably heated up again, and I realised I could watch it do that for the rest of my life.

He just shook his head in embarrassment and walked out, muttering something to himself under his breath.

---

"Why aren't ya holding hands?"

"Huh?"

"Like married people do when they're walking together, duh."

"Y'know Mikey, you sure do seem to know alot about this marriage thing," Nate chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"Well..."

"Well what?"

"Why aren't you?"

"Mikey, Mitchie and I aren't married," Nate stated simply.

"Then how come she sleeps in your bed?" Mikey asked in a 'duh' tone.

Nate rolled his eyes again. "She... sleeps over... like a friend."

Mikey shook his head, not convinced. "But boy and girl friends don't sleep in the same bed."

Nate just stared at him incredulously. "Man, where are they teaching you this stuff?" He muttered, more so to himself.

But Mikey just grinned. "So you and Mitchie really aren't married?"

"Sorry, bud," Nate chuckled, scruffiling Mikey's curls.

"Cool! Mitchie can marry me then!"

Nate's face fell a little in shock.

I started laughing, my first input into the conversation so far, and Mikey just grinned up at me. "Sure, Mikey, that sounds great," I agreed playfully, with a grin to match his.

"We can live in my room!"

"You're bed's a little small though, Mikey. She might still have to sleep in mine," Nate stated, winking at me as he said it. And for some strange reason I felt my heart splutter. Was I having one of those heart murmur things? I swear I was.

Mikey shook his head. "Mitchie, you can sleep on the floor and I can sleep in my bed," he corrected matter-of-factly.

My mouth gaped. "Oh, is that so?" I laughed.

Nate was simply shaking his head, "You know, I think I have to start teaching you to be a better gentleman, Mikey."

"But I'm the one who's getting married, so maybe I'm the one that has ta teach _you_ stuff!"

Nate chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Touche."

"You know you are one smart kid, Mikey," I laughed, patting his head fondly.

He grinned, seeming proud of himself.

We came to a stop then in front of the elementary school I was assuming was Mikey's. Nate rested both of his hands against Mikey's shoulders. "Be good, okay?"

"Uh-huh," Mikey nodded.

Then Nate held his fist out in front of him, and Mikey hit it excitedly with his own. "Knock 'em dead, little man," Nate said proudly, and I got the feeling that this was some sort of pre-school ritual they shared every day.

Mikey grinned and then nodded again. Then he turned to me, and shot forwards into my arms. He pulled back, looking at me excitedly. "Are you gonna come pick me up after school with Nate?"

I smiled back at him, "I guess I am."

"Yesss!"

And with that he turned and ran happily towards the front entrance.

I could see out of the corner of my eye, Nate shaking his head at me, so I turned to face him. "What?" I asked him confusedly.

He chuckled smugly, "Nothing, nothing. I just hope you know it's going to take him a _very_ long time to forget you're his 'wife to be'."

"Who said I wanted him to forget," I teased, playfully, "He's so cute!"

Nate rolled his eyes, "Of course. He's a stud muffin, so I guess he got the girl."

"Oh, absolutely," I laughed. And I studied Nate from the corner of my eye as we began walking again. "You seem happier today," I stated reflectively.

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I find you're moods very contagious."

"So... If I'm happy, you're happy?" I asked, feeling slightly surprised and confused by that fact.

He just nodded in response.

"...Then I hope I'll be happy forever," I whispered, with a little too much meaning. We locked eyes, and I knew he understood what I meant.

After a short silence, he spoke again. "So... are you going to school today?" he looked at me hesitantly.

I bit my lip, to be honest, the thought scaring me a little. I hadn't been to school in over two weeks. I wasn't sure I could handle being around all those people again.

"You should," Nate encouraged suddenly, but I found I still doubted myself a little.

"I don't know, Nate," I sighed, "I- I'm not sure I'm even going to be able to catch up... I'm so behind."

He threw a comforting arm around my shoulder, "Of course you can. You're smarter than anyone else there anyway."

I smiled, but rolled my eyes, knowing he was just trying to make feel better so I would go. I shrugged, "I don't know... I'll consider it."

"Cool," he said, "I'll walk you."

I rolled my eyes again, "I said I would consider it."

But he just ignored me and steered me in the right direction. I shook my head, chuckling a little at his attempt at surreptitiousness, but decided to let it go. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

"You know, I think this might just be the first time in three years that you have walked me to school," I smiled after a while.

"Yeah, well before I was going to school too, so I actually had a reason," he chuckled at himself, and then quickly added, "Nah, I'm just kidding."

I laughed fondly at him, fake insult totally forgotten. He always used to do that, add the 'just kidding' straight away, almost as if he were frightened of letting me feel offended for more than just a couple of seconds. It was nice to have something the same in him after all this time.

"But you're right," he said quietly, leaning towards me a little, "This is kind of nice."

I sighed softly. "It is nice," I smiled. "I don't think I've heard you talk this much in years, and it's... kind of nice, too."

He turned silent, and all of a sudden I wanted to slap myself for letting that slip out of my mouth. It just reminded me of the significant amount of time that we had spent _not_ talking, doing what we had as a substitute. And I knew he was thinking the same.

I blushed again, and the rest of the way we walked in silence.

We got to my school and I turned to him, his arm falling back to his side. He had a pained and slightly guilty look on his face, but he seemed to snap out of it as he looked up at me too.

"You'll be okay, Mitch," he told me, as if reading my anxiousness.

I nodded, letting out a slightly shaky breath, "I hope so."

"Okay. Well, uh... I'll meet you here at three."

"Okay," I nodded.

He gave me a small smile, and went to turn away, but-

"Yo! Patterson?!"

Nate turned at the call of his last name. "Oh, hey man, what's up?" he replied as a guy from my class walked up, and they knocked fists together.

"Nothing, bro. Where've you been, you just up and left?"

"Yeah, I had... things to take care of," Nate answered vaguely, rubbing his hand through the back of his hair nervously.

The guy looked like he wanted to ask more, but didn't. His eyes flicked over to me then.

"Sorry, hey. Alex Harper," he said politely, holding his hand out to me.

I took it a little timidly. "I- I know, you're... in my lit class."

"What? Are you sure?" he replied, disbelievingly, "I would've noticed you."

"I'm sure," I blushed a little, knowing this proved just how invisible I was.

He blinked at me a couple of times, and then spoke to Nate, "Hey, don't worry, man. I'll take care of your girl for you."

He slung an arm around me, and Nate looked uncertain for a second, but then he nodded, letting out a slightly relieved breath, "Thanks, man."

"No worries," Alex smiled, and then the bell signalled. "See you later, bro," Alex called, already turning me towards the school.

I turned back to see Nate give a short wave, and then he turned and walked away.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven:**

--

Three and a half hours in, and I already didn't want to be there. And I was kind of mad at Nate, since he was pretty much the reason I was there at all. I hated school. I had just forgotten how much. And after being away for so long, it just made it that much worse coming back. Not that anyone noticed. I never really realised I was actually _that _invisible. My teachers didn't look up when I answered my name for attendance, and nobody so much as took a second glance my way the whole day. No 'Welcome back Mitchie!'s or 'Where have you been? We missed you!'s. Infact , the only person who acknowledged me at all was Alex, and he probably only felt the need to talk to me because he felt some sort of strange obligation due to his past friendship with Nate. Who he thought was my boyfriend, by the way. How strange. _Boyfriend _just sounded like such a juvenile phrase when applied to Nate. I couldn't picture him really being anybody's 'boyfriend' in the flowers, chocolates and romantic dates sense of the word. He would probably be more than that, like- well I can't explain it, but that doesn't really matter anyway. I hadn't bothered to correct Alex's hasty assumption. Actually, he probably thought I was rather quiet and dull, since I hadn't bothered to say much at _all_.

The day went on, I had a surprise pop quiz in Spanish that I had obviously not at all been prepared for, a ton of reading to catch up on, and to top it all off, I had tripped and grazed my elbows on the way to Calculus. I could feel the tears beginning to brim, the tight clench of my throat, and I felt angry - that a simple 'bad day' was enough to make me want to cry, after all I had been through. So for the sake of my humility (really, bursting into tears in the middle of class was not the way I wanted people to finally notice me), I just decided to skip my last two periods and sit outside by one of the old oak trees. I was probably visible from the windows, but I didn't really care. I pulled out my English Lit book, figuring if I was missing class I should probably try to catch up on something, only to throw it down beside me about two minutes later. Because George Orwell wasn't a boring, depressing guy or anything, no, not at all (I was being sarcastic, if you hadn't guessed). I heaved a sigh, resting my head back against the oak. Hadn't I been happy that morning? For such a short time, I had actually been happy, and Nate had been happy, and Mikey had been happy. We had smiled and laughed and joked. But now... I just really didn't want to be there right now. I let my eyes close, and imagined I hadn't given in and come back to school. I imagined I had gone back to Nate's, back to his room, back to his bed. I could almost feel the soft sheets against my skin, with that familiar scent that always lingered, telling me that everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

I jolted awake when I heard footsteps and loud voices surrounding me. I had fallen asleep, wow, and school was over for the day. I shoved my novel back into my bag, and stood up, slinging it across my shoulder and rubbing my neck a little. Really, I don't recommend ever sleeping agaisnt a tree. I tried to rake my fingers through my slightly dishevelled hair as I began forwards, thinking about the true horribleness of my day. I didn't ever want to come back. I was way behind, completely invisible, and- Nate was right there waiting for me. He stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, scuffing his shoe against the pavement as he stared lazily at the ground. He was there, and suddenly everything was okay. Every bad thing about my day just lifted off my chest as I made my way slowly towards him.

He looked up, and after a few seconds of scoping, his eyes landed on me. He smiled, and when I was just feet away, he gave me a soft "Hey. How was it?"

I didn't answer, though. I just dropped my bag to the ground and threw my arms around his neck, clinging to the back of his collar and resting my head against his shoulder as I leant my full weight into him. His arms wrapped around me gently.

"Oh, was it... bad?" he questioned, concerned.

I shook my head against his shoulder. "No... it was okay," I explained. It was the truth, because it just didn't seem like it had been all that bad anymore.

He held me for a moment longer, and I kind of just wanted to fall asleep there. It was kind of a strange thing, to describe someone as comfortable, but he really was. Or maybe I was still just really tired. But then he gently pulled me away, and he did that thing where he would stare into my eyes like he was searching for something. I don't think he found anything though, because he just sighed softly and looked away. "We should probably..."

"Mikey," I finished for him.

He nodded slowly, "...yeah".

He shoved his hands into his pockets again, and I picked up my bag as we turned to walk away, but then-

"Hey, Nate! Patterson!"

Nate swivelled his head around and stopped to wait as Alex ran forwards to catch up with us.

"Hey, man. There's a party tomorrow night at Wilson's. You should come. We haven't seen you in a while."

Nate just paused for a moment, and then he slowly began to nod, "Uh... yeah, I'll think about it."

I knew Nate, and I knew he wasn't even considering it. I wondered why.

"Okay... well... bring Torres, if you like," he glanced at me and then back to Nate, "Whatever, just think about it, man. Hopefully we'll see you there."

And with that he was already walking over to some other guys who were loudly catcalling him or something.

Nate didn't offer an explanation, but just touched his hand to the small of my back to guide me forwards. I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder, and his hands disappeared into his pockets again.

"So, you're not going?" I smirked knowingly.

"Huh?" he said, being pulled from his thoughts. Then he shrugged, "I said I would consider it."

I just chuckled, ignoring his answer, "Why don't you want to go?"

He shrugged again, "It's just not my thing anymore."

"Not you're thing," I teased, "What, Nate, are you too _cool_?"

He was slightly amused, but he just rolled his eyes and didn't answer.

"I think we should go," I stated, "You need a break from everything, and I think you might actually have fun."

He shook his head. "Even if I wanted to go, there's no way I'm leaving Mikey alone."

I thought for a moment.

"I'll look after him," I said suddenly, desperate to help out in any way possible. "You go, and I'll stay with Mikey-"

"Mikey's not your responsibility," he stated immediately, "I wouldn't put that on you."

"Well, Mikey's not your responsibility, either," I exclaimed back, feeling frustrated by the fact that he always seemed to think he was. But as the words really hit me, I stopped walking, biting down on my lip. I wished I could take them back.

Nate's step had faltered for only a moment, but he just kept on walking slowly ahead.

"Nate, I'm sorry," I said, running a little to catch up with him. He didn't answer, he seemed a little lost in his own thoughts. It was a tense and slightly awkward silence.

"Nate..." I tried again. I wanted to say something, it was on the tip of my tongue, but I wasn't sure if I should. Biting my lip apprehensively, I decided I just would. "Its just... you work so much, you look after Mikey... after _me_. You barely sleep, and you never have time to do anything just for you. I just... I'm just worried about you."

His eyes softened a little at that and he turned his head to look at me. "Don't," he said softly, "I'm fine."

"But-"

"Just- trust me when I say I won't have fun at the party, okay? Don't get worried about me... just... I don't want you to worry. Please?"

"...okay," I said, only because I felt obligated too. Truth was, I would never stop worrying about Nate.

* * *

**AN: I'm so sorry that this was a really short chapter, I just wanted to get something up. But hopefully the next chapter will be a lot longer. There is some stuff in there that I am really psyched about writing, and one scene in particular that I've had in my mind almost since I started this story, so hopefully I will be able to write it really quickly so that it can be posted soon. So... wow... it's been like, over a month since I have updated. I am soooooooooo so sorry, and I feel like I owe an explanation, so here it is:**

**1. My new best friend forever who seems to think that there is nothing better than talking to him every single freaking waking moment of my life. You would think somebody who talks to me so much would know how much I despise talking over the phone, but he just likes to talk about himself, so...**

**2. Okay, so I don't know how many people are into the whole RPF thing, but I just got into jonas brothers fanfiction, and it is pretty awesome, and there are some truly great authors and stories on that site. I don't know if anyone else reads jb fanfiction here, but if so, is anybody reading '364 days of woe'? It's a pretty darn popular story, lol, so I'm seriously wondering if anyone reading this is reading it. Is it not like the complete and utter shiz?!! TEAM PEP!! If you're not reading it, freaking google it, because you have no idea what you are missing out on (and read her other stories, too, like, dang!). Anyway, that story sort of brings me to my next point.**

**3. Reading other people's awesome stories makes me feel like mine is nothing but a complete waste of space, and sometimes I wonder if it's even worth continuing. **

**4. My last point. Two words. THE OFFICE. Jim and Pam. Pam and Jim. Jam. The awesomeness never stops.**

**Okay, I'm done wasting you're life away with my pointless rambling. Please review!! :D I want to hear from you all, and hopefully you haven't all abandoned me!!**


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